vendettaspathfanfic - Tumblr blog

vendettaspathfanfic · 23 days

Text

(Art by @ceoofdestructix who gave me permission to use it for this post)

As some of y’all may know it was recently @ceoofdestructix ‘s bday!

I thought they might like a little snippet ft Ursula as a present bc we have talked about how Mama Bear she is and how Ursimian is elite djdhdh and if you too are a fan of Ursula you may like this lil story i wrote!

I call it “Warmth”

A persistent, uncomfortable dryness plagued Ursula's throat, acting as a relentless barrier against the slumber her body craved. The solution seemed simple enough: rise from the bed, shuffle to the vending machine she had noted earlier just a few feet from their motel room's door, and procure a bottle of cold water. However, aside from the weariness that weighed heavily on her eyelids, she was drawn in by the gentle pull from Simon's arm around her waist, as he subconsciously yearned for the cooling presence her ice abilities provided. The late July heat was oppressive, the motel air conditioning was weak, and her powers were a welcome respite.

Ursula, who typically shunned the confining embrace of blankets due to her natural aversion to heat, found herself making an exception on this particular night. The usual discomfort from warmth was absent; instead, Simon's proximity and the protective arm he had lovingly draped over her were unexpectedly comforting. His body heat, mingled with her cooler aura, created a harmonious balance that felt just right.

Embraced by this soothing equilibrium, Ursula weighed her discomfort against the serene moment and chose to disregard her thirst. She made the decision to shut her eyes once more, seeking solace in the cocoon of Simon's warm hold.

Hissssss!

Wait, what the fuck was that?

The mysterious sound ceased as quickly as it had begun, only to be interrupted by her eyes snapping open. She was on the verge of dismissing it as a figment of her half-asleep imagination when it pierced the quiet a second time. This interruption was immediately followed by a shrill "fuck!" The voice was unmistakably that of Toxic, their precociously profane four-year-old companion. What could she possibly be doing awake at this hour?

With a delicate touch, Ursula attempted to extricate herself from Simon's embrace, aiming not to rouse him from his slumber. Unfortunately, even her gentlest efforts could not prevent him from stirring.

“Cm’back…” His voice was a sleepy murmur, muffled by the pillow, his eyelids remaining firmly closed.

“I’ll be right back,” She responded softly, careful to soothe him as she straightened her tank top and prepared to investigate the commotion. “You sleep.”

Simon's response was nothing more than a sleepy grunt, his hand instinctively reaching up to rub the sleep from his eyes. In that moment, another hiss cut through the air, followed immediately by a louder, more frustrated "Fuck!"

“God damn it…” Simon's voice was tinged with exasperation as he let out a deep sigh, realizing it was Toxic once again testing the limits of his patience.

Ursula cautiously peered through the slats of the blinds, her gaze falling upon Toxic seated before the door, encircled by an array of spray paint cans, her arms crossed in frustration, head drooping.

“Aww, lil gremlin…” Ursula's voice softened with compassion, her heartstrings tugged by the sight of Toxic in distress. After ensuring that everyone in the room was decent, Ursula pulled the door open, causing Toxic to startle, a can rolling off her lap in the process.

“Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, lil gal!” Ursula's tone remained gentle and soothing. “I’m just checkin’ on ye! What’s wrong?”

“I’m trying to do pictures but nothing’s coming out,” Toxic responded, gesturing towards a can with its lid missing.

“No luck? Did you give the can a good shake?” Ursula inquired, bending down to retrieve the can.

“Where did you get spray paint?” Simon interjected, a note of exasperation evident in his voice as he leaned against the doorway, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Toxic fidgeted with one of her pigtails and absentmindedly tugged at a loose thread on her t-shirt, her voice filled with hesitation as she confessed, “Off the floor. I didn’t shake it, I just wanna draw.”

“You gotta shake it up first if you wanna draw,” Ursula explained with a lighthearted chuckle, vigorously agitating the can in her hand.

“Why?” Toxic inquired, mimicking the action by shaking another can.

“It helps mix the paint so it comes out right,” Ursula clarified. “What do you wanna draw?”

Without a moment's hesitation, Toxic pointed directly at Simon, her little blue tail wagging with enthusiasm.

“R-really?” Simon's heart skipped a beat at the unexpected gesture, though he maintained a stoic facade in response.

“Sergeant Wussypants? Well, you’re the artist,” Ursula quipped with a smile, playfully teasing Simon and earning an eye roll in response.

Toxic took the brown can from Ursula's hand and approached a nearby wall, where she began crafting a large vertical oval.

“Yep, make him great big like that. He’s a tall drink of water,” Ursula remarked with a comedic flair, observing the tiny artist at work.

“He’s not water. He’s a fuckin’ gorilla,” Toxic retorted as she started to fill in the oval with color, eliciting a burst of laughter from Ursula.

“Ah, you've got me there,” Ursula conceded amidst her laughter, casting a sideways glance to catch Simon on the brink of laughter himself. “Careful there, you might crack a smile for once.”

“At what?” Simon replied smugly, his arms folded in defiance.

“Oh, you know what I mean. Or maybe you don’t,” she teased, grabbing a blue paint can. “I’m going to sketch a certain cheeky little girl I know.” With that, she began spray painting a small blue stick figure.

As Toxic reached for the green paint to add the finishing touches to Simon's makeshift portrait, her attention was captured by the figure Ursula had drawn. “Is that me?”

“Mm-hmm,” Ursula affirmed with a nod, her tone warm. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, I wanna be dressed in green,” Toxic replied eagerly, immersing herself in the task at hand.

“Alright, just pass me the green when you’re ready,” Ursula replied graciously.

After finishing her part with the green spray paint, Toxic handed the can to Ursula and then picked up a white one, extending it towards Simon. “You make Ursula.”

“Listen, kiddo, I don’t-” Simon began, his hand raised in a gesture of refusal.

“You heard her,” Ursula interjected, shooting Simon a pointed look.

With a heavy sigh, Simon accepted the can from Toxic, shook it, and hastily spray painted a rudimentary portrait of Ursula.

Once the trio had completed their impromptu artwork, Toxic couldn't contain her excitement. “We’re done!”

“And it's absolutely perfect!” Ursula exclaimed, her face lighting up with joy as she snapped a picture of the creation with her phone.

“Alright,” Simon said with a faint smile, “time for bed.”

“I can’t sleep,” Toxic groaned, crossing her arms. “It's too hot.”

“It is indeed a warm summer night,” Ursula acknowledged. “But you know my ice powers can help cool things down for you?”

“Really?” Toxic's ears perked up with interest.

“Of course. Head on into our room, and I'll be right there,” Ursula reassured. “Would you both like some water?”

After receiving unanimous agreement for water, Ursula procured three bottles from the vending machine and returned to distribute them.

“Thank you,” Simon offered quietly before turning to the young hedgehog with an expectant look. “What do you say to her, Toxic?”

“Thanks,” Toxic muttered as she struggled to twist open her water bottle.

“You're welcome,” Ursula replied warmly, assisting Toxic in opening the bottle before settling into an armchair in the corner of the room. As she took a sip of her own water, a sigh of relief escaped her lips as the cool liquid trickled down her throat. “Come sit on my lap.”

Toxic nodded in response and climbed onto Ursula's lap, snuggling close to her and finding instant relief in the coolness of her fur.

“Feeling better now?” Ursula inquired softly, running her fingers through Toxic's soft hair with a gentle touch.

Toxic nodded, her eyelids growing heavy as a sense of peace and comfort enveloped her both physically and emotionally.

Ursula cradled the child lovingly, holding her close as she observed Toxic gradually succumb to the embrace of sleep.

Although Ursula typically avoided warmth, there were moments when it held a special significance for her. In this instance, it was the simple, heartfelt connection with a little girl who sought solace in her arms.

The profound sense of comfort in this shared embrace eventually lulled Ursula into a peaceful slumber right there in the armchair.

Simon lay on top of the covers, quietly observing the tender scene before him, understanding the importance of allowing this moment to unfold undisturbed. A gentle smile graced his lips as he gazed at the two figures nestled together in sleep, and he whispered to himself, “Goodnight, girls…”

#ceoofdestructix #sonic archie comics #archie sonic #sonic archie #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #simon simian #seargent simian #sgt. simian #sergeant simian #sgt simian #ursula the polar bear #sonic oc art #sonic oc #sonic original character #original character #HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY BUDDY #IM SO HAPPY YOU LIKED THIS #FOLLOW CEOOFDESTRUCTIX OR YOU WILL NEVER DRINK WATER AGAIN

13 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 27 days

Text

Scourge does not know what Easter is. He is not Christian.

#sonic archie comics #archie sonic #sonic archie #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #scourge the hedgehog

7 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 1 month

Text

FCUCK

I havent posted a chapter since january sorry yall life threw me a few curveballs bUT i definitely havent forgotten abt it! Stay tuned for chapter seven!!

0 notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 2 months

Text

Yet another common @viveela W!!!

Dr. Versipelle (right) and McKenna (left)!!!

As always, Vee did a mf banger job and I am absolutely LOVING this depiction of my characters!! I can’t wait to write more about them as well!!

Y’all better support vee or else i’ll piss on your moon

#archie sonic #sonic archie comics #sonic oc #sonic fanartist #sonic fanfiction #sonic fanart #sonic original character #sonic fanfic #supression squad #the destructix #destructix #sonic the hedgehog

4 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 3 months

Text

Character Designs!!

Thank you @ceoofdestructix for accepting this comm!

You guys better comm them too istg

Anyways, from left to right, this is Selene, Revine, and Ren! Toxic’s friends mentioned in Chapter Five!

They’ve been missing for some time, and Toxic needs help finding them. Where are they? Stay tuned…

#sonic archie comics #sonic the hedgehog #sonic oc #sonic fanart #sonic oc art #ceoofdestructix #sonic fanartist #sonic fanfic #sonic fanfiction #sonic original character #sonic comics #the destructix #destructix #AAAA THANK YOU #sonic the hedghog fanart #sonic the hedgehog fanfiction

6 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 3 months

Text

Chapter 6

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

This evening, dinner was a simple affair, with only Sonic and his mother seated at the elaborately set table in the grand dining room, a familiar scene given his father's common late returns from the palace. He was a man of significant influence and stature, serving as the indispensable advisor to King Maximillian, a role that demanded much of his time. At seven years of age, Sonic found his father's endless discussions on the complexities of governance tediously dull, a stark contrast to the vibrant tales of his own day that his father rarely had the patience to entertain.

In the comforting presence of his mother, however, Sonic was able to talk as much as he wanted. He excitedly recounted the adventurous escapades from the latest installment of his beloved cartoon series, speaking with animated gestures while their longstanding family butler quietly placed plates of food before them. Unfortunately, tonight's dinner featured lobster, a dish that Sonic loathed.

The pungent aroma that wafted from the plate caused Sonic's face to contort in displeasure, his nose scrunching up as if to ward off the offending scent. He turned to his mother, seeking a compromise, only to find her gaze lingering on a cherished photograph adorning the wall. The image captured a moment of regal splendor, depicting her alongside her father and the other esteemed members of the Royal Court.

"Mom?" Sonic inquired softly, attempting to draw her attention. Receiving no immediate response, he pressed further, the word "mama" punctuated by a gentle nudge on her arm.

His mother momentarily snapped out of her reverie, her eyes refocusing with a slight flutter of her lashes as she angled her body to address her son with a soft “sorry, hun. What?”

Sonic's face contorted into a grimace, his voice dripping with distaste as he lamented, "I don’t want this again… it makes me wanna puke." His words elicited a disdainful huff from the butler, who promptly exited the room with a swirl of disappointment.

"It’s good for you, Sonic," she responded, her voice steady and reassuring, "besides, you remember what we’ve said about being wasteful."

Defiance etched itself into the young hedgehog's posture; he folded his arms across his chest like a barrier, slinking further into the embrace of his chair. His youthful face was wrinkled with obstinacy, as the furrow of his brow channeled the essence of his aversion. "But it's gross!" Sonic retorted, the fervor of his sentiment about the unwanted meal burning as brightly as ever.

"Just eat it, please?" The plea from his mother reached his ears as he turned his head away, embodying the spirit of rebellion. "If you do, we’ll get ice cream and candy."

The promise of such a sweet reward sparked curiosity in Sonic, and he swiveled his head back in her direction, catching the nascent smile blooming on her face, a signal of the incentive that awaited him.

With an effort that felt monumental to his young mind, the little blue hedgehog managed to ingest the detested lobster dish, the glazed carrots that accompanied it no less infamous in his eyes. Upon completing the ordeal, he beckoned for his mother's attention, which had drifted back to the photograph on the wall. She met his gaze with a smile that radiated pride and affection, a smile that could brighten the darkest of rooms. Sonic cherished that smile, for it was not just a mere curve of the lips; it was a symbol of his success in bringing her joy. That was a reward far greater than the promise of sweets.

"Good job, Scourge." The admiration in her voice was unmistakable as Sonic eagerly leaped from his seat to envelop her in a tight embrace. But as he held her close, an unsettling thought wormed its way into his consciousness, leaving him with an unnerving sense that releasing her from his arms could mean never being able to hug her again. It was an absurd notion, surely, for she was ever-present in his life, a constant in his home.

But, she’s never called him Scourge before.

Before he could ask where she heard that name, the space she occupied in his arms became empty. Darkness enveloped him, his world tipping into chaos as he tumbled into an abyss that seemed to have no end. A sense of vertigo overwhelmed him; his surroundings stripped away as if the earth itself had opened beneath him. He flailed, attempting to cry out, but found his voice trapped, his throat constricted by an unseen force.

In the midst of his panic, Sonic's efforts intensified, desperation fueling his struggle. His attempts finally culminated in a muffled, yet alarmed "mmh!" To his relief, the sensation of falling ceased abruptly, replaced by the oppressive reality of a worn, filthy mattress pressing against his back. Heat enveloped him, the summer's sweltering embrace untempered by the absence of air conditioning in the orphanage.

As his eyes snapped open, he lay there, drenched in sweat, his heart racing as the remnants of the nightmare clung to him. He struggled to ground himself back in reality, but it soon became clear that once again, he was a sixteen-year-old green hedgehog named Scourge.

Thankfully, when he awoke with a start, his sudden movement and noise didn't disturb Fiona, who was lying on her side, facing him, lost in deep slumber. The moon's soft glow streamed into the room through the slightly ajar window, casting moonlight gently on her beautiful face. As she dreamt what he hoped was a peaceful dream, her delicate eyelids fluttered.

The faint sheen on her soft, heart-shaped lips revealed the lingering touch of the chapstick she had applied before bed, adding an extra allure to her serene visage. With great care not to disturb her, he turned onto his side to face her, tenderly running his fingers through the fur on the exposed side of her muzzle, relishing the softness and finding solace in the quiet intimacy of the moment. A sense of calm washed over him, slowing his racing heart and quieting his restless thoughts as he took in every detail of his girlfriend, peacefully asleep before him. In that hushed stillness, he found a rare and precious moment to simply appreciate the beauty and peacefulness of his lover.

Realizing that sleep would elude him for the time being, he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before quietly rising out of bed. Descending the stairs, he made his way to the kitchen, where he reached for a water bottle resting on the counter.

As the lukewarm liquid flowed down his throat, a distinct thumping noise echoed from downstairs, instantly seizing his attention. The source was unmistakable—it emanated from the direction of the freezer.

With a sense of urgency, he hastily replaced the bottle's lid, a quiet “fuck,” escaping his lips as the realization struck that they had neglected to assign someone to keep watch over the freezer that held Miles. Carelessly tossing the bottle on the counter, he grabbed and lit a lantern and dashed down to the freezer, swiftly unlocking it and wrenching the door open.

Thankfully, Miles had made only minimal headway in his attempts to free himself. The most significant achievement was toppling his chair to the ground and making almost no progress in loosening the ropes covered with duct tape.

Amused by the sight that greeted him, Scourge placed the lantern on a mildew-covered shelf and shut the freezer door behind him. "Are you enjoying yourself there, Miles?" he inquired, his tone tinged with condescension.

Miles continued to struggle against his bindings, clearly disoriented from the head injury he had suffered earlier. His mouth muffled by the tape, he could only respond with garbled, indiscernible words.

"I'm sure whatever you just said would have been so terribly hurtful," Scourge began in a mockingly sorrowful tone as he righted the chair. "But it's nothing compared to what you're going to get if you don't tell me what I want to know." With a swift motion, he tore the tape from Miles' mouth, inadvertently pulling away a thin layer of fur from around his muzzle in the process.

Grimacing in pain, Miles averted his gaze from Scourge, his breath coming in ragged pants as he struggled against the dizziness and the throbbing ache in his head.

"Now I can see you renovated the castle a lot since you screwed me over and got me thrown in jail," Scourge remarked, leaning casually against a nearby shelf. "looks real nice, but I’m sure in the process you souped up the security, right? So, if I were to try to waltz in and take back what you took from me, I’d be screwed wouldn’t I? So, either you tell me how to get past security, or you’ll end up getting more than just a punch."

Miles steadied his breath, slowly turning his head to meet Scourge's aiming gaze. With gritted teeth, he growled, "You can't."

Grasping the chair that held Miles, Scourge cocked his head, a grin of amusement playing on his lips. "Well, I doubt that's true. They told us we couldn't escape from Zone Jail, yet here we are. Even the tightest ship can spring a leak."

Miles' widened gaze shifted between both of Scourge's eyes as he swallowed thickly. "Not this ship, you fool. Every doorway, hallway, and corner is monitored by scanning posts. And unlike the ones attached to police lines, this system doesn't just sound an alarm. Every entrance and exit is impenetrable to anyone lacking clearance. Not even rats could infiltrate the sewers. And all of that's hardly a fraction of our security measures."

Impressed, Scourge raised his brows, emitting a low whistle of astonishment. "You've really built an airtight system there, my friend. It almost seems... desperate?"

"With the rapid advancements in technology and cybernetic implants, we can't afford to leave any vulnerability unaddressed," Miles retorted, narrowing his eyes as he regarded Scourge with undisguised contempt, as though he were less than the dirt on his shoes. "As I mentioned before, nothing I can say will aid you in the slightest."

Scourge sighed and shook his head. "That really sucks, man," he said as he exited the freezer, closing the door behind him and ignoring Miles' inquiries about his destination.

Hurrying upstairs to his and Fiona's room, he knelt beside her bag to retrieve her combat knife. Startled by the sound of someone rummaging through her belongings, Fiona's eyes flew open, and she sat up, her expression softening as she recognized Scourge's silhouette, relieved that it was him and not an intruder.

"Jeez, you scared me," Fiona sighed, sleepiness evident in her voice as she rubbed her face. "Are you lookin’ for cigarettes or something?"

"Nope," Scourge replied, revealing the knife he had acquired. "Miles is awake and refusing to talk."

"I'll accompany you," Fiona offered, stifling a yawn as she retrieved her bag from his reach, pulling out a pen and an old receipt. "I can write down what he says while you take care of the dirty work."

"Attagirl," Scourge praised, grinning as he affectionately tousled her hair. "Let's go."

Guiding her through the dimly lit building, they traversed downstairs to the freezer, where Miles continued to struggle to escape.

"Why's she here?" Miles grunted, straining against the duct tape and rope binding his wrists.

"If you happen to come up with a way for us to get through, she'll take note of it. If not, well, then you're of no use to us. And we can't exactly release you since you know too much, so it seems the next step is to kill you," Scourge chuckled, delighting in the horror that washed over Miles' face. "But don't worry. I'll make it nice and slow, giving you time to reconsider and perhaps change my mind about doing it. However, first..." His gaze shifted to his tails, tightly bound together with rope and duct tape. "We need to make sure that you won't have any chances of flying away. Fiona, you might want to fetch the first aid kit. Can't risk him bleeding out before he has the chance to speak."

"W-wait! No! Please don't do this!" Miles cried out, his breaths quickening into hyperventilation as he watched Fiona obediently exit the freezer.

"Listen, I didn't want it to come to this, but much like you, my hands are tied," Scourge said, his voice laced with feigned sympathy as he leaned against a shelf, crossing his arms.

"No! I can help you gain entry! You won't be able to do it without me!" he screamed, his wide eyes blinded by fear.

Scourge's expression transformed into a wide, menacing grin as he slowly uncrossed his arms and straightened up to his full height.

“Really?” The smug green hedgehog asked, striding over to the young two-tailed fox and looming over him, leaning in close as he jabbed his forefinger against his chest. “Well, it’s a good thing you remembered. You could’ve been killed.” His smug grin suddenly gave way to a menacing glare. In a swift motion, he withdrew his hand from Miles’ chest and delivered a harsh slap across his face, causing the chair to wobble and splitting his lip. Scourge quickly steadied the chair and grasped Miles’ chin, forcing him to meet his intense gaze. “Don’t you fucking lie to me again, Miles,” he growled, baring his sharp teeth, sending shivers down Miles’ spine.

When Fiona returned, Scourge briefed her on their change of plans. She took the pen they had previously acquired and began to write finely on the back of the receipt.

The success of their mission hinged on having the right technology at their disposal. Miles, the primary designer of the security system, was indispensable to their plans. Their first objective would be to hack the body scan post for entry, a task that required a neural link to connect to Miles, allowing him to access necessary technology through the eyes of the person with the implant. However, due to the Destructix's distrust of him, he would have to be guarded and sequestered away from the castle to prevent any potential betrayal.

To bypass the body scan post, one would need optical implants that would allow them to scan the post, enabling Miles to use the neural link to hack into it and grant every individual passing through with clearance. Yet, this was only part of the larger challenge— the entire security system needed to recognize the Destructix members as authorized personnel. To achieve this, someone would require an interface plug, a wired implant located at the back of the head, along with a neural interface chip. When the wire was extended and connected to specific machinery, it would grant the individual the capability to hack into the technology.

Once someone was plugged into an access point with the interface, Miles could then proceed to hack the entire security system. This would provide the Destructix with unhindered movement throughout the castle, enabling them to locate the remaining members of the Suppression Squad and eliminate them, ultimately allowing the Destructix to seize control of the throne.

Before Scourge and Fiona could explain the plan to the Destructix in the morning, they found themselves contending with the aftermath of Predator, Lightning, and Flying's excessive drinking the previous night.

"Well, I don't know why you drank so much of that crap, but I hope it made you happy," Simon grumbled with a scoff as he entered through the front door, carrying a tray of to-go cups from a nearby coffee shop.

"Mmmm'kay. Shut up, Simon," Predator groaned, his eyes tightly shut as he sat hunched over in a nearby chair, nursing his throbbing head.

With a roll of his eyes, Simon handed Predator a cup of black coffee, scoffing, "drink up." He then turned his attention to Flying, who was slouched against a nearby wall, struggling to keep his eyes open as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth. "Got some for you too, Flying," Simon said, prompting Flying's eyes to sluggishly roll toward him, blinking one at a time.

"Is that coffee-tea-fre-" Flying began, before a sudden wave of nausea overtook him, causing his eyes to bulge as he clamped a hand over his mouth and gagged. He scrambled to his feet, dashed toward a nearby window, flung it open, and retched outside.

Simon groaned in disgust and called out, "I'll put this in the kitchen, then..." before handing Scourge his coffee.

"Thanks, man," Scourge said with a courteous nod.

"Thanks for not drinking as much as these idiots," Simon remarked, his disdain evident in his voice. "Have you seen Lightning, Fiona, and Toxic?"

“Lightning’s probably still asleep cause I haven’t seen him yet. Fiona’s giving Toxic a haircut so she looks less like her wanted picture and also we saw a daddy long leg crawl out of one of the mats in her hair.” Scourge said, casually drinking his coffee.

Simon blinked a few times in surprise before muttering, “go figure… Well, if you see the girls, let ‘em know they got drinks with their name on them in the kitchen. I’m gonna wake up Lightning.”

As expected, Simon located Lightning, who was sprawled out on a set of child-sized mattresses, emitting loud snores. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Simon set aside Lightning’s coffee, knelt down, and nudged Lightning's shoulder, attempting to rouse him. When his efforts failed, Simon noticed that Lightning still had water in his bottle. He unscrewed the cap, tossed it aside, and emptied the remaining contents onto Lightning's head.

Lightning groaned and attempted to turn his face away as the water splashed against his forehead. Without opening his eyes, he managed to mumble out a slurred, "hello?" before some water entered his mouth, causing him to choke and erupt into a fit of coughing as he hastily sat up.

"Hello, Lightning. Coffee's here," Simon said with annoyance, standing up.

As Lightning recovered from the coughing fit, he grumbled and shook his head in an attempt to rid his fur of the water, groaning as the motion exacerbated his headache and nausea.

"You didn’t have to waterboard me, Simon," he groaned, squinting as the bright light aggravated his newly awakened eyes.

"Don’t be so dramatic. You gotta get straightened up. Fiona and Scourge got Miles to talk, and they’ve got a plan they want to tell us," Simon responded, offering Lightning his coffee.

"I don’t want anything else in my stomach right now…" Lightning groaned, the scent of the coffee in his hand intensifying his nausea.

"Well, if you get sick, either puke out a window, or if you do it in here, you're cleaning it. This place is filthy enough without three drunk bastards making it worse," Simon declared firmly, his distaste unwavering.

"Agh… Fuck off…" Lightning slurred, his struggle evident as he fought to keep the vomit down. He staggered to his feet and stumbled toward the window, grappling with it in his disoriented state.

"For crying out loud…" Simon growled, stepping in to open the window for Lightning, who leaned out and threw up.

As he left Lightning to deal with his hangover, Simon muttered bitterly, "it’s like a house full of toddlers. Hell, today I haven’t even had a problem with the actual toddler here.”

After a wait that spanned several hours, the group finally regained enough composure to gather and listen to Scourge and Fiona outline the plan they had devised. They arranged their seats into a communal circle within the same room where they had convened the night before.

“How can we trust Miles to do what we say?” Predator questioned, his voice tinged with doubt.

“He doesn’t have a choice. I know from experience he’s a coward that’ll do anything to live. One of ya will need to stay with him while we work and be ready to gut him if he makes even one wrong move,” Scourge replied, his arms extending in a languid stretch as he reclined back in his chair with an air of nonchalance.

“I volunteer-steer-beer!” Flying burst out with gusto, only to wince as his booming, obnoxious voice aggravated his pounding headache.

“Alright, knock yourself out,” Scourge casually responded with a dismissive shrug, now leaning forward in his seat, his fingers weaving together in front of him.

“Who's getting the implants?” inquired Lightning, downing some ibuprofen that Fiona had supplied to ease his discomfort.

“All of us. We never know what we’ll run into. Can’t leave any stones unturned,” Fiona declared, her voice firm and decisive.

“Me too?” Toxic chimed in, twirling one of the short pigtails Fiona had fashioned in her hair.

“No way, kid,” Scourge stated adamantly with a shake of his head. “Cybernetics aren’t good for you when you’re that little.”

“I’m taller than Ren!” Toxic contended, climbing onto her chair and stretching to her tiptoes in an attempt to demonstrate her height.

“Tough. You’re still barely taller than a fire hydrant,” Scourge teased, his mocking tone evident. “You gotta wait til you're older.”

“Sit down before you fall and crack your head open,” Simon commanded, his tone authoritative, directed at the young blue hedgehog.

With a scowl of indignation and a growl meant to convey ferocity, Toxic reluctantly descended from her perch and slouched back into her seat, her arms folded in a tight cross.

“Save it,” Fiona interjected with an eye roll, “anyways, Simon, Lightning, and Predator; you guys are going in first. Grab some uniforms from the guard locker room and you’ll easily pass as one of the guards. They know Scourge and I too well, so we’ll wait until the security system is down and you find Patch and Alicia to storm in and join the fight.”

“But what do I do?” Toxic mused aloud, now reclining sideways in her chair, her legs swinging idly over the edge.

“You’ll help Flying guard Miles,” Fiona replied, her tone conveying confidence that this modest assignment would satisfy Toxic’s desire to contribute.

“But before all of this, we gotta remember implants cost money that we don’t got. So…” Scourge began, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through him, his hands eagerly rubbing together, “We’ll be ‘borrowing’ some money from a bank out of town.”

This infectious excitement quickly rippled through the group, with members exchanging eager grins and approving murmurs.

"It's in a pretty wealthy neighborhood. And hey, even you can join us, Toxic," Fiona said, her arms crossed, a hint of pride in her voice as she gauged the group's reactions.

"I can?" Toxic gasped, her voice lifting with excitement as she bounded out of her chair and approached Fiona, her tail wagging like a flag of enthusiasm.

"She can?" Scourge echoed, his tone a mixture of surprise and concern, unsure of involving someone so young in such a dangerous activity.

"Yes," Fiona confirmed, assuring the group with a calm authority, "like I said, it’ll be an easy heist. She can help us take out security. We’ve all seen how she can kick ass. Simon, you can train her on a pistol."

Simon, looking somewhat resigned, pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply. "If you insist, ma’am," he conceded, albeit with heavy reluctance.

"Babe, are you nuts? She’s four years old!" Scourge protested vehemently, his arms thrown up in disbelief.

"So what? Don’t be a fucking dickface!" Toxic retorted sharply, flipping Scourge off with her ring finger. Scourge responded in kind, sneering as he mirrored her gesture.

Pulling Scourge aside from the rest of the group, Fiona's voice dropped to a hushed, persuasive tone. "Look, we made a deal with her that if she didn’t do what we told her she’d be rat food and clearly it’s been working. This is part of that deal, hun. Besides, if she managed to put us through that much hell at first, imagine what she’d do to plain ol’ guards."

"How is it worth the risk?" Scourge pressed, his apprehension evident as he pondered the unpredictable nature of their youngest member.

"It’s like I said, if we broke out of Zone Jail of all things, we can rob a fucking bank even with your crackhead sister tagging along. Besides, we need everyone from the gang there to do different things, and do you really wanna leave her alone? She could wander off and a bounty hunter would snatch her. Then what? Game over," Fiona argued, her logic resonating with the risks they faced.

Scourge's jaw tightened, the truthfulness of Fiona's words sinking in, especially the part about leaving Toxic alone. With a heavy exhale of resignation, he muttered, "this better work."

"It will. You’ll see," Fiona reassured him with a confidence that bordered on certainty, punctuating her promise with a light kiss on his cheek before returning to the group. "We’ll start preppin’ tomorrow. Get all the equipment we need." She turned to address Lightning, Flying, and Predator, her face scrunching in disgust as the pungent smell of vomit and alcohol reached her. "For now, there’s a gym with showers not far from here. Let’s make it reek a little less around the place, hm?"

Nodding in silent accord, the gang made their way to the gym, their footsteps echoing against the pavement as they traversed a desolate stretch of the neighborhood. The eerie stillness of the area hinted at its sparse population, offering them a cloak of anonymity that would aid in evading any potential bounty hunters on the prowl for Toxic.

Upon reaching the gym, they made a beeline for the bathroom and obtained the much-needed cleaning supplies from the dispensers, the clinking of coins and the soft hum of the machines filling the otherwise quiet space. As they each cleaned up in their respective shower stalls, the sound of water cascading down in rivulets served as a welcome reminder of the simple luxury they hadn’t had since their escape from prison.

Despite Scourge's usual indifference to cleanliness, he found solace in the sensation of grime washing away from his body as he stood beneath the shower's stream. Closing his eyes, he allowed the water to cleanse not just his physical form, but also his spirit, feeling the weight of his troubles slowly dissolve and disappear down the drain. During his time in prison, he had been constantly on edge, his natural strength and agility restrained by a control collar that left him vulnerable and exposed to frequent beatings. However, as the water flowed over his face and quills, he realized that despite the lingering risks, he was finally beginning to believe that everything would ultimately be alright. He resolved to face whatever challenges lay ahead with newfound determination and resilience.

After everyone had completed their showers, they returned to the orphanage. While some members of their group were still recovering from the effects of the previous night's revelry, Simon took Toxic to the backyard to teach her how to shoot empty beer bottles off the fence using a silenced pistol.

"Keep one hand on the bottom, Toxic, and don't touch the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Keep your finger to the side, like this," Simon instructed, kneeling beside her and guiding her small hands to demonstrate the proper way to hold the firearm.

"Okay," Toxic responded with an eager nod. "Can I shoot now?"

"Not yet. First, aim at the space between the two small bumps and make sure it's pointed at what you want to shoot," Simon advised.

"Okay," Toxic responded, her small hands adjusting her grip on the pistol with determination. "Now can I shoot?"

"Go ahead," Simon replied with a nod.

Without hesitation, she pulled the trigger, and the sharp crack of the gunshot was followed by the satisfying shatter of the bottle.

Toxic gasped in amazement and giggled, her eyes sparkling with pride as she beamed at Simon. "I fuckin’ gotted it!"

"You sure did," Simon said with a soft chuckle. "Now take out the rest of them."

Leaning against the weathered wall of the building, Scourge and Fiona observed as Toxic skillfully shot several more bottles, her focus unyielding and her aim true.

"Not bad. She's a natural marksman in the making," Fiona remarked with a lopsided grin.

"Good thing she's only shooting bottles," Scourge snidely remarked, retrieving a cigarette and lighter from his jacket pocket. Fiona signaled for one, holding two fingers in his direction, and Scourge obliged, lighting both of their cigarettes. As they inhaled, Scourge wrapped his arm around Fiona, the sun casting a warm glow over them as it descended toward the horizon.

"Do you think we should check on Miles?" Scourge asked, a sudden pang of concern causing his heart to skip a beat.

"I'll feed him later, but there's no way he's getting out. Simon and I tested that padlock we got earier, and it's secure," she replied confidently, referring to the heavy duty lock lock they had obtained during their earlier supply run.

Scourge smirked with pride, imagining the futile attempts Miles might be making to escape, a sense of control and satisfaction washing over him.

"Not much longer," Fiona began after blowing a cloud of smoke out of her mouth, the wisps curling and dissipating in the air, creating a momentary haze around her. Her eyes, filled with a determined glint, scanned the horizon as if envisioning the future. "We'll rule this world again. We'll bring everything under our control, just like it used to be."

"Fiona," Scourge chuckled softly, the sound mixing with the rustle of the wind, and dropped his spent cigarette, the feeble embers flickering before he snuffed them out under the sole of his shoe, his eyes fixed on his lover's with an intense yet tender gaze. "We already do."

15 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 3 months

Text

sO i made an oopsie ig yall cant see what the songs r if u dont have apple music so

here they are if thats the case for u!

Ignore my deadname on here lmao but heres my playlist i made for the fic! I use it to get inspo while writing!

10 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 3 months

Text

Ignore my deadname on here lmao but heres my playlist i made for the fic! I use it to get inspo while writing!

10 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 4 months

Text

Hey this amazing person is the one who drew the cover for this fic if you’re looking for comms and your able please support her xx

I'm really struggling with my bills right now so I've decided to open commissions! Slots will be limited, message me if there's any questions!! 📬

If interested please fill out the form found on my artistree, thank you!

#commissions #commissions open #artist help #art commisions #artist support

87 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 4 months

Text

Sorry for posting kinda off topic, but I thought I’d show you…

Scourge cosplay(/face reveal lol)! Its not the best in the world but I figured some of you Scourge fans would like it nevertheless 😊

#archie sonic #sonic archie #sonic archie comics #scourge the hedgehog #sonic comics #sonic the hedgehog #sonic cosplay #sonic the hedgehog cosplay #scourge the hedgehog cosplay #scourge cosplay

19 notes · View notes

vendettaspathfanfic · 4 months

Text

Chapter Five

(First one with the cover!!)

(Chapter Index)

(Previous)

The sudden demise of a prominent official and the mysterious vanishing of another were events that could not stay undetected for long. Reinforcements were swiftly deployed to the location to scrutinize the aftermath of a violent explosion, an array of gunfire, and the resonating shockwaves of sonic booms.

Although nobody had any idea who initiated the bombing, it was initially assumed Miles Prower and Boomer Walrus of the Suppression Squad had neutralized the elusive blue blur. Yet, upon arrival, they were met with a chilling scene - the lifeless body of Boomer, his existence snuffed out by a fatal gunshot wound on the lower right side of his neck. The grim tableau was punctuated by the discovery of four police-issue bullet casings and three bullets lodged in the nearby concrete wall.

This evidence led to an almost inescapable conclusion - the young blue blur who had managed to seize a gun from the law enforcement ranks was the likely perpetrator of this crime.

After power and communications were swiftly restored, the area remained under stringent lockdown. Law enforcement personnel diligently scanned the vicinity for any trace of Miles, the young suspect, or any individuals exhibiting suspicious behavior. Their search unearthed only the shattered remnants of Miles' array of handheld devices and a faint set of small, bloody shoeprints.

Atop a hill, overlooking the city, the massive Castle Acorn loomed like a fortress of steel and glass. Its impressive structure was marked by glowing neon spires that pierced the evening sky, a true testament to technological power. Inside the castle's walls, Alicia Acorn sat in the throne room, surrounded by modern design and bathed in the gentle glow of neon lights. It was there that she received an urgent phone call from the chief of police, bearing this news of her comrades' fate and the circumstances surrounding it.

The newly crowned queen gripped her throne, taking in a breath in an attempt to retain composure. “Please bring Boomer’s remains to the castle as soon as you are able. And do not cease in your search for Miles.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The chief dutifully responded. “We’re able to have him sent back right away.”

The loss of Boomer was bad enough by itself. His collaboration with Miles in the realm of engineering and invention had been a cornerstone of the extraordinary technological revolution sweeping through their world. More than just an innovator, Boomer was also one of the most formidable combatants within their small team.

The impact of Miles' sudden disappearance was even more catastrophic. While Alicia held the official title of queen in their domain, it was Miles who was the true architect of power behind the throne. His strategic wit was the keystone in their coup that toppled the despised Scourge, leading to the former king's incarceration in Zone Jail at the hands of Sonic. Without his guiding hand, Alicia's governance faced the threat of unraveling.

Patch, interjected with furrowed brows and a skeptical glance from his intact eye, "I was under the impression that the Shapeshifters had departed our planet, madame."

Alicia gestured assertively as she responded, "Many have, not her.” She turned to pace in another direction, her eyes shifting in continuous thought as she spoke. "I had already considered extending an invitation for her to join us. Now, there's no luxury of time to ponder further. She represents our immediate recourse." With her arms now dropping to her sides, her hands clenched into determined fists, Alicia’s eyes blazed with resolve. "As for locating Miles, rest assured we will find him," she proclaimed with a steely tone. "Even if our search means reducing our world to ashes."

Little did Miles’ comrades know that he was unconscious in the back of a postal van.

In a fortunate turn of events, telecommunications were swiftly restored in the vicinity of the recent bombing. Inhabitants of this affluent area had the financial means to ensure rapid resumption of services, and as a result, utility crews worked diligently to rectify the outage in under 20 minutes. The expeditious recovery allowed the Destructix to hastily reconvene and make their escape from the site of the explosion, slipping away before law enforcement could fully divert their attention from managing the immediate effects of the devastation.

In a calculated move to avoid drawing attention, Fiona opted for a less direct route than the rest of the gang as they drove back to their hideout. She was at the wheel of the high-performance sports car they had stolen earlier. In the passenger seat, Scourge was visibly annoyed, burdened with the task of holding the most wanted child in all of Moebius, who was making her discontent loudly known. Due to earlier incidents, he deemed it best that the Destructix didn’t attempt to handle her.

"I wanna fuckin' drive!" Toxic's high-pitched, petulant demand sliced through the interior of the car, her voice a discordant note that caused Scourge's ears to involuntarily flatten against his head in vexation.

Scourge's patience frayed, and with a harsh tone, he retorted, "And if you don't shut up, I'll want to knock all your baby teeth out." This threat prompted Toxic to issue a low, defiant growl, and with exaggerated pique, she crossed her arms and turned her gaze out the window, embodying the essence of childish rebellion.

Despite the animosity that he held towards his sister, recent developments were too significant to overlook. For starters, there was the fact that one of their rivals had been shot dead, which had subsequently resulted in the abduction of another. To top it all off, Scourge found himself in possession of an exceptionally sleek sports car. Admittedly, the vehicle had a shattered window—a souvenir from the circumstances of its acquisition—but he was confident that with a little bodywork and a fresh coat of paint, it would serve as a magnificent means of transportation. The cause of these victories were his sister's reckless escapade that had her tangling with the long arm of the law.

Her actions, albeit inadvertent, had proven to be of considerable advantage to them.

"Ay, Toxic… We need to talk about some things," Scourge reluctantly initiated the conversation, hesitant to give her credit for her aid.

"I thought you said shut up?" Toxic retorted, her tone laced with bitterness as she tightly crossed her arms over her chest.

Scourge let out an exasperated roll of his eyes, followed by a scoff, "Well, you can talk now, smartass."

"Can I drive?" Toxic inquired, a spark of curiosity lighting up her gaze as she considered the prospect.

"Not a chance, brat," Scourge dismissed the idea instantly. "Anyways, that's not what I'm trying to talk about. Look, you did some crazy-ass stuff today, and I was this close," he said, holding his thumb and forefinger millimeters apart, "to blowing your brains out. You could've landed us all back in the slammer," he added, his voice tinged with contempt. He paused to rub his face, as if the physical action could somehow help him process the day's events, "But, lucky for you, your antics actually played out in our favor. So, not only am I sparing your life, but I'm also offering you another shot to roll with our crew. We're talking about a legit life here. Away from that hellhole of an orphanage, living it up in the castle where everything we could ever want is just a snap away. But this comes with conditions: you do everything we say, you don't run off, you don't attack us, you don't mess with our stuff without permission, and you put an end to those tantrums of yours. Otherwise, you're nothing but fodder for the rats. Are we clear, kid?"

Toxic seemed to mull over his words, her initially rigid posture gradually easing, her ear twitching as if weighing each word. Scourge watched her with a raised eyebrow, his head tilted in anticipation of her response.

"Um… Does this mean you can help me?" Toxic eventually asked, her voice small as she twiddled a strand of her unkempt hair, avoiding eye contact.

Scourge blinked, taken aback. She was asking for help? It dawned on him that he had never really considered her needing anything beyond the apparent satisfaction she derived from antagonizing him and his cohorts.

"Uh… Depends," Scourge replied, his expression still betraying his confusion, "What do you need, Toxic?"

Her response was timid, her words imbued with a childlike simplicity, "My friends didn't come back..." Toxic admitted sheepishly, her gaze shifting away to the car window, evading the weight of their stares.

"Your friends?" Fiona chimed in, perplexed at the idea of her ever having friends.

"Hold on a second," Scourge interjected with a snap of his fingers, a lightbulb going off in his head, "Is that why you had four lanterns?"

Toxic nodded slowly, her long fingernail, encrusted with dirt, scraping against the door's upper panel as she gazed blankly into the distance.

"Uh..." Scourge exhaled, a notable tension in his breath as he grappled with the realization of her situation and scratched at the back of his head, pondering the implication of her words, "we… might have a way to find them." Scourge's voice was tentative, betraying a hint of reluctance before he directed his gaze to her, asking with a newfound sense of purpose, "Where were they last seen? What happened?"

She began to recount the events in a halting, childlike manner, "Um… ok so Revine told me not to do the slide because it was broken but it didn’t look broken and then I did it, but it um… broked. Then my mouth cut hurt really bad and I had a hot um… face." Toxic tapped her forehead, indicating a fever, her speech hampered by the limits of her youthful lexicon, "I didn't feel good and Revine went to go get um… the medicine… But she didn't come back. Ren and Selene were scared, and I felt badder, but..." She trailed off, her voice dropping to almost a whisper as she lowered her head, her gaze fixated on Scourge's shoes in the dim light of the car while she fidgeted with her hair, "Revine always said don't look for her if she doesn't come back, but they still went looking and they didn't come back either."

A heavy silence settled over the interior of the car as the gravity of Toxic's predicament sunk in. For the first time, Scourge felt a genuine pang of sympathy for his sister, his blue eyes softening as they made contact with her green ones, reflecting a vulnerability he hadn't noticed before. He was acutely aware that finding her friends would be no simple feat. In the best-case scenario, they had been apprehended and would be listed in police records, which could be accessed with ease if they managed to secure positions of influence. But if they weren't in custody, they could be kidnapped, dead, or lost among the countless homeless children wandering the neon-drenched labyrinth of the city's streets.

"Ok..." Scourge finally spoke, his voice lower, the earlier edge of command now replaced with a more contemplative tone as he averted his eyes from Toxic and stared ahead at the road, "Just stick to the rules, do what we say, and we'll help you look for them, understood?"

Toxic's nod was firm, and with newfound conviction, she affirmed, "Ok."

"You know, Toxic," Fiona interjected, taking control of the steering wheel as she navigated the vehicle, her eyes scanning the road ahead, "shooting seems to be in your blood. We could train you to handle a gun like a real sharpshooter. But remember, you only use a gun when we say so, got it?"

"Ok," Toxic responded, a glimmer of enthusiasm detectable in her voice as she contemplated the offer, "Can we get some food?"

"Yeah," Scourge agreed, pointing at Fiona with a sudden inspiration, "we should swing by that pizza joint we hit up earlier. We could grab a box and some beers to toast our little victory tonight."

"Amen to that," Fiona laughed.

"Wait, I want beer too," Toxic suddenly piped up, her request prompting a burst of laughter from Scourge and Fiona.

"Have you ever even tasted beer?" Scourge queried through his chuckles.

"No. I saw some people drinking it when we went out to find food. Revine said I'm too young for it, but are you saying I can have some?" Toxic asked, her thumbs fidgeting in anticipation.

Scourge was about to respond when Fiona interjected with a firm, "No!"

"Come on, she's earned it! It'd just be a taste," Scourge argued, still laughing at the thought of their youngest member joining in the revelry.

"Scourge, she's just a kid. Who knows what it might do to her? Plus, she’d definitely be a mean drunk," Fiona retorted, shaking her head at Scourge's lack of foresight.

The idea of a belligerent, inebriated child hurling insults at hardened criminals was too amusing for Scourge to resist. "Wait—Shit!" he gasped, struggling to stifle his laughter, "Alright, alright, just one little sip," he conceded, still chuckling.

"Just a splash, barely a taste," Fiona relented, joining in the mirth, "We're definitely going straight to hell for this."

As the laughter subsided, Scourge reassured Toxic, "We'll get you some soda too. Beer's an acquired taste, kid."

"What the hell does that mean?" Toxic asked, her brows knitting together in confusion.

"You'll find out," Scourge said, glancing out the window just in time to see they were pulling up to the pizzeria.

Through the grimy car window, they could see the restaurant's television broadcasting the news, ablaze with coverage of the aftermath of a recent bombing, and now featuring the murder of Boomer Walrus.

"Damn..." Scourge muttered to himself, "Fiona, you grab the pizza. Toxic, you're staying in the car with me."

Fiona nodded tersely, understanding the gravity of the situation, and exited the vehicle to collect their order.

"Why do we have to stay in the car?" Toxic inquired, her fingernail resuming its path along the car door's leather panel.

"Because you've landed yourself in a shitload of trouble. We can't risk some bounty hunter spotting you and trying to cash in," Scourge explained with a weary sigh, his mind flashing back to past encounters with relentless headhunters who’d do anything for a reward.

When Fiona returned, laden with an extra large box of pizza and bottles of beer, they wasted no time in driving back to the orphanage. Upon arrival, they rearranged some scattered chairs into a circle in one of the building's larger rooms. They set a single chair in the center to serve as a makeshift table for the pizza box, which was now the focal point surrounded by the soft glow of the four lanterns. The dim light from the lanterns cast eerie shadows on the walls as they settled into their seats, ready to celebrate the tumultuous day's end.

"Where's Miles, by the way?" Fiona inquired casually, reaching for a slice of pizza and a beer from the makeshift table.

"We tied him to a chair in an old freezer down in the basement," Predator answered, popping open his beer and taking an eager gulp. His face contorted in disgust as he quickly pulled the bottle away, "This tastes like..."

"Like piss and batteries," Lightning finished, grimacing after taking a swig of his own.

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Lightning-wing-sting?" Flying Frog teased with a jeering point, his laughter echoing in the room.

"Yeah, learned from the best—your mom," Lightning retorted with a smirk, eliciting a round of chuckles from the group.

"Hey! Watch it, pally!" Flying Frog shot back with mock offense, standing on his chair He then grinned widely, "Tell her I said thanks for dumping me when I was born," he joked before collapsing back into his chair amidst the group's laughter.

Scourge felt a gentle tap on his arm and looked down to see Toxic seeking his attention. "Can I have a beer now?" she asked with a hopeful look in her eyes.

"Hold up, everyone. Before we drink any more, I think we need to acknowledge our little wildcard here," Scourge declared, raising his bottle for attention despite the murmurs of disbelief from his gang. "If it weren't for her wild antics today, Boomer would still be alive and Miles wouldn't be in the freezer. So here's to Toxic," he proclaimed, nodding at Fiona who reluctantly opened a bottle for the youngster.

"Toxic," they echoed, albeit somewhat scattered, as they raised their bottles and took a drink. Toxic, in her innocence, tried to mimic the gesture but immediately spat out the beer, her face scrunching up in disgust, which sent another wave of laughter through the group.

"To be fair, this beer is pretty terrible," Simon admitted with the hint of a grin.

"We kicked ass guys, not win the lottery," Fiona added with a chuckle, handing over a bottle of orange soda to Toxic. "Here, try this instead, kid."

Grateful to rid her mouth of the bitter taste, Toxic eagerly guzzled the soda before hungrily diving into her slice of pizza.

The atmosphere within the dimly lit room was unusually relaxed and convivial as the evening progressed. The gang, typically bound by the commonality of their shared objectives and the threat of their enemies, found themselves unwinding in a rare display of camaraderie. It wasn't an occasion that required the profundity of deep, heart-to-heart discussions; rather, the air was filled with an undercurrent of joviality that was a welcome departure from their usual interactions.

Simon, Flying, Lightning, and Predator shared a history that spanned several years, their familiarity with one another evident in their effortless exchanges. For Scourge and Fiona, however, the dynamics were relatively new territory. Although past collaborations had occasionally thrown them together, it was only recently that they had committed to being full-time members of this gang. As such, their integration into the fold was still a work in progress, with trust and friendship being forged through shared experiences and battles.

Yet, as laughter filled the room and barriers began to dissolve, it seemed that the invisible walls that had separated them were crumbling. Even Toxic, the young girl who had been the object of their collective disdain earlier in the day, was now an integral part of the evening's festivities, her presence accepted, perhaps even appreciated, as they all found common ground in the simple pleasure of the moment.

As the night wore on, the effects of the alcohol became increasingly evident. Their inhibitions lowered, their speech slowed, and their movements took on a languid quality. Lightning, in particular, seemed to succumb to the introspective pull of inebriation. Holding an empty bottle with a loose grip, he lamented over a lost love with slurred words and a bitterness that could only be fueled by the sting of rejection. Bride of the Conquering Storm, the formidable leader of his former Raiju clan, had not only denied his affections but had also cast him out of said clan following his failure to display his worth in combat against her and Sonic.

Predator, observing Lightning's inebriated state, offered a dose of unsentimental advice. Hunched over in his chair, a bottle of his own hanging precariously from his fingers, he addressed Lightning with a weary sigh. "If she's such a bitch, forget her," he muttered.

"I c-“ Lightning's speech was abruptly cut off by a soft burp, his words trailing off. "I can’t. I wanted her more than anything, man… And then I get kicked out of my clan… Like what the fuck!?" His voice grew progressively louder, his words slurred as he spoke.

"Lightning, look around you," Predator grumbled, his grip tightening on the bottle as he gestured around them. "Sure, we’re in a dump of an orphanage, but no matter what, you’ve got us. Focus on that. What happened back then won’t happen again."

Lightning paused, attempting to process Predator’s words, but before he could, he was overcome by a wave of acute nausea, muttering a faint "fuck" before rushing out of the room to vomit.

Predator watched him go and then stared at the doorway through which he had fled for a moment or two. He shut his eyes and clenched his jaw, staring down at his feet in silence. After a heavy sigh, he placed the bottle on the floor, stood up, and slurred, "I’m gonna go to bed…" before storming away without another word, dragging his feet as he went.

"Looks like I’m getting some black coffee in the morning," Simon said, observing Flying Frog snoring in his chair with an empty beer bottle in his lap.

“Why?” Toxic asked, squishing her empty plastic soda bottle out of boredom.

"It helps when you get a hangover," Simon replied, his words slightly slurred from the alcohol.

"What’s a hangover?" Toxic asked, wiggling her feet aimlessly before putting the tip of the bottle in her mouth and gnawing on it. She leaned back against the wall, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s when you drink a lot of beer or other types of alcohol and the next morning you feel sick,” Simon explained, getting up to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room, the faint aroma of alcohol lingering in the air.

“Why do people do that?” she pondered with a grimace, unable to fathom the appeal of drinking something so vile. She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

“For fun, I guess. Why do you ask so many questions?” Simon replied, taking her bottle and adding it to the trash he took to a nearby waste bin, the clinking of glass echoing in the quiet room.

“I dunno,” Toxic said with a shrug, her eyes following Simon as he moved around the room.

“Well,” Simon began with a stretch, “I’ll go to bed too. You should sleep too soon, you hear me?”

“I’m not tired,” Toxic protested, her gaze wandering around the room.

“Well, you will be soon. G’night, Toxic,” he said softly before leaving to go to bed, his steps fading into the distance.

Meanwhile, Scourge and Fiona were outside having one last cigarette before they went to bed, the night air cool against their skin.

“So…” Fiona exhaled, a cloud of smoke escaping her lips, “If we get Miles to talk, we get word on the castle’s security. Then… it’s almost straight shootin’ from there.”

“Hopefully,” Scourge added before inhaling deeply, the red ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness, “but our plans have seemed to change a lot lately, so we gotta be prepared for anything.”

“We’re good at rolling with the punches though, ain’t we?” She said with a mischievous smirk as she held the cigarette between her fingers, turning her head to Scourge, nudging his side playfully with her elbow, the faint glow of the cigarette illuminating their faces in the dim light.

“True,” Scourge admitted, his arm enveloping Fiona’s waist as they stood bathed in the gentle glow of the moonlight filtering through the night sky. He gazed into her eyes, the silver beams reflecting in her irises, creating a mesmerizing effect.

“Nowhere I’d rather be…” Fiona said softly, her voice carrying a hint of longing, as she closed the gap between their lips, embracing a fusion of love and the bitter tang of nicotine.

They savored the moment for a couple of minutes, their connection deepened by the intoxicating allure of both the chemicals and each other’s presence. Although unspoken, they both knew they needed one another. In a world consumed by chaos, they were each other’s anchor, the one constant they could rely on. As their lips hesitantly drifted apart, they extinguished their cigarettes, reentered the building, and headed off to bed, their silhouettes fading into the darkness.

Toxic was the last one awake at this point. She rubbed her eyes as she got up from her chair and turned three of the lanterns off, preserving their power as Revine had taught her to do before taking one to guide her to her designated mattress. With a quiet click, she turned off the lantern and settled onto her bed, a glimmer of hope kindling within her for the first time in almost two weeks.

As Scourge had mentioned earlier, they had to be prepared for anything.

Dr. Stellaria Versipelle eagerly accepted the opportunity to join the Suppression Squad. After conducting a thorough examination of Boomer’s lifeless form, she extended an invitation to Queen Alicia and Patch to demonstrate something she claimed would be incredibly useful to them.

“What can she show us?” Patch asked Alicia as they approached the lab, his voice tinged with curiosity and uncertainty. “Clearly the child shot and killed him.”

“We won’t know until we get there, now will we?” Alicia tersely replied as they entered the lab, the sterile scent of antiseptic hitting their nostrils as they were greeted by the doctor, who had taken the form of a tall navy blue Moebian fox, her presence exuding an air of professionalism and intrigue.

“Thank you for making time out of your schedule to come see me,” the doctor spoke formally with a grin, her hands folding in front of her as she stood before them. “I’ll make this quick and worth your while.”

“Well, what do you have to say?” Alicia inquired, her eyes fixed on the shrouded form of Boomer, a sense of urgency palpable in her voice.

“Firstly,” the doctor began, her steps purposeful as she paced around Boomer’s still figure, “I’ve come to the conclusion he didn’t die instantly. He struggled for a moment, gagging on his own blood long enough for me to be able to show you why you’re here.” She turned to an assistant standing nearby, her expression expectant. “If you could bring my subject in? And please do be gentle with her, she can be sensitive.”

As her assistant followed orders, Patch’s eyes furrowed in confusion, his unease growing palpable in the tense atmosphere of the lab.

“Erm… Subject, Miss?” Patch asked apprehensively, his gaze shifting between the doctor and the assistant, uncertainty etched on his features.

"Doctor," Stellaria corrected him, her blood orange eyes locking onto Patch’s with an icy intensity that sent a chill running down his spine, eliciting a disquieting chuckle from her. The air in the room seemed to grow colder as her gaze held him in place. "And, yes. I found her and have been working with her since she was a child. You see, she was born with certain abilities that make her quite unique. This includes but isn’t limited to telekinetic powers, the ability to create out of thin air, and, most relevantly at the moment, clairvoyance. With the ever-increasing rise in technological and scientific advancement, her abilities have been enhanced tenfold, resulting in quite a remarkable specimen if I do say so myself. Oh, and do call her McKenna."

At that moment, accompanied by the aforementioned assistant, a teenage red fox with frizzy, somewhat wavy hair entered the room, her locks partially obscuring half of her face. She wore a plain white t-shirt and matching white pants, with socks that had grips on the bottom, her posture rigid and her expression blank and unflinching. The only indication of her being anything near lifelike was the subtle movement of her fingertips as she twiddled them in random, strange patterns, her presence casting an otherworldly aura in the room.

“I’ve taken the liberty of collecting a blood sample from Boomer,” Stellaria added, holding up a small vial of blood, the crimson liquid swirling within the glass under the harsh laboratory lights. “Just enough for her to show us what we need to know. As I’ve said, her clairvoyance is vital right now. When she tastes his blood, she can get somewhat of a profile of his energy, as well as be able to see things from his perspective. More importantly, the circumstances of his death. If you will, my dear?”

Saying nothing and retaining a blank, unflinching expression, McKenna took the vial that Dr. Versipelle handed her and removed the cap. Closing her eyes, she raised it to her lips and drank the blood sample, the action causing a flicker of repulsion to cross the faces of Alicia and Patch. For a moment, she was completely still, the bottle held to her lips, looking as though she was the subject of a paused movie frame.

When she let out a loud gasp, she startled all but Stellaria, her frame tensing as she gripped the lower right side of her neck, the place where Boomer was shot, her distress unmistakable as she seemed to struggle to breathe, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. After a moment, her jaw squirmed, and she emitted a deep, guttural voice that bore a striking resemblance to Boomer's as she shut her eyes tightly. “That little bitch shot me!”

“Who did!?” Alicia interjected demandingly, her voice cutting through the tense silence, her eyes locked onto McKenna.

“The fucking kid! Who do you think!? She’s with him! We should have known!” McKenna groaned and gasped, her voice still laced with pain as she retained the same tone, clutching her neck tightly. When she opened her eyes, it was revealed her pupils were glowing red.

"Who’s ‘him’?” Alicia stood closer to her, her eyes narrowed as she knelt in front of McKenna. She clenched her fists in determination as she demanded to know the answer.

“OUR OLD KING, GENIUS!” McKenna roared before coughing violently and falling to the ground, writhing as she struggled to breathe and clutch her throat.

Dr. Versipelle, unfazed by the display that shocked Patch and Alicia, calmly pressed a button on her watch. In response, electrodes surged through McKenna’s body, causing her to jolt and become limp, panting as she tried to steady her breathing. Stellaria knelt down to the girl who lay helpless on the ground and helped her stand.

“You’re ok. It’s just energy. You haven’t been hurt, my dear,” Stellaria reassured McKenna, who whimpered as she reciprocated the hug she was pulled into.

“Mother…” McKenna whispered, her accent and voice now dramatically different as it became higher pitched and wheezy. Furthermore, the red light was once again absent from her eyes.

“Shhh… follow him back to your room for now and rest, my dear,” Stellaria requested gently, to which McKenna and her lab assistant obliged.

Dr. Versipelle’s demeanor returned to its typical formal state with a hint of cockiness. “In case you’re wondering, the electrodes help ground her back to reality.”

With Alicia and Patch in a state of horror, Patch, with his hand over his mouth, murmured, “Scourge…”

"He’s back!? How!? Fuck!” She roared ferociously, her voice laced with anger and disbelief. “he’s been behind everything. We’ll find him! When we do, we’ll ensure he NEVER sees the light of day again!”

Stellaria chuckled at the outburst, finding grim amusement in the situation. “Oh, that much is clear,” she spoke, her grin growing wider as she observed the raw determination in Alicia’s eyes. “I hope to work with you further, your majesty.”

16 notes · View notes